


Seize The Night

by Trunklefish



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Character, College AU, Depression, I can't tag for shit, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pansexual Character, roommates au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7163264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trunklefish/pseuds/Trunklefish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just another Mullette fic. But Hercules never gets enough love, so it's written in his perspective. Enjoy!<br/>Title is from the song "Seize The Night" by Will Varley. It's a good listen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Top Of The Afternoon

CHAPTER ONE:

Hercules huffed impatiently, tapping his foot on the floor. He hitched his heavy green backpack higher on his shoulders and knocked again. He had just arrived at his new dorm room after climbing about a million floors. And the elevator was broken, which had already miffed him entirely too much. Hercules was really not in the mood for a dorm mate who was irresponsible, late, or unwilling to answer the damn door.  
If Hercules wasn’t such a kind, gentle, loving person (all three were total lies, he mused, but ‘twas not the time for such trifling matters) he would have knocked down the door with a sledgehammer or something along those lines. But, given his true nature, Hercules refrained from this barbaric attitude and instead nicely knocked again on the door.  
When this didn’t work he groaned and slumped down to the dirty brown floor, heaving off his backpack and moving his suitcase to the side so he wouldn’t block the paths of various other dorm-goers (there weren’t any at the moment, but he imagined if there were, they would appreciate the gesture.  
Hercules pulled his phone out of his baggy jeans and quickly texted his foster mom back in Ireland that he was at the dorm but it would be a while before he could actually get it.  
He winced as he realized it was probably night time in Ireland and he had probably just woken her up. Damn time zones, they’d fuck him up. Then again, Hercules had made a promise to himself not to talk to friends or family in Ireland that much during college. He planned on staying in America, and he had to make new friends.  
Now that he had successfully ruined his foster mother’s sleep, Hercules pulled out his earphones, plugged them into his phone, and put on some rap music, bopping his head to the beat and leaning against the wall.

He quickly learned that nodding his head and leaning on a hard surface was not a good combination, and re-positioned himself.  
Five minutes passed. Nobody came down the hall and liberated Hercules from the corridor.  
Ten minutes. He started playing Neko Atsume and almost cried at how cute the cats were.  
Fifteen. Even Hercules’ kind, gentle, loving nature wasn’t going to stop him from breaking down the fucking door if somebody didn’t open the room in the next five minutes.

Hercules decided to listen to some Beyonce. That always cheered him up. And by “cheered him up” he meant absolutely destroyed him. God, her vocals and presence was out of this world. His favorite was probably “Daddy Lessons”.

Before he knew it, Hercules was drifting off to “Hold Up”, which was not at all how he had planned his afternoon to go. Admittedly, however, it wasn’t the worst way to spend one’s waiting time. Hercules enjoyed sleep very much, and he was jet-lagged from the plane flight anyways.

Hercules had been told many times that he slept like a kitten. A giant, muscular kitten. A… Oh, good lord, he could make a pun.

A… knitten kitten. Hercules probably snorted in his sleep. Ooh boy, if Hugh, his foster brother, had heard that one, he would have absolutely snapped. It was a wonder that the family had put up with him so long.

That was a good one, though. And fitting, seeing as Hercules was actually taking fashion and design as a major. Hah. Fitting. He needed to stop.  
Bad puns thought up during mid-afternoon naps on the floors of dorms would have to wait, because Hercules suddenly woke up to somebody shaking his shoulder rather harshly, which was rude.  
His eyes opened and slowly adjusted to a tall, beautiful young stranger with intriguing facial hair and winged eyeliner so sharp it could have killed him. Hercules’ stomach dropped, strangely, and he scrambled to take his earphones out of his ears because the stranger’s mouth was moving. He was only mildly disappointed that Beyonce was no longer the only thing he could hear.  
“Sorry-- What?” he asked apologetically. The person smirked but didn’t answer. Beckoning with one hand, he turned away from Hercules. He slowly got up, head spinning from sleeping on the floor, and grabbed his stuff, noticing the very nice red, white and blue jacket on the stranger. How patriotic. It fit his figure very well. Hercules looked away.  
The stranger was opening the door to the dorm he’d been assigned-- 21A, which meant that… this was most likely his roommate.  
Hercules was not complaining.  
In fact, he was just standing there with his mouth open like an absolute fucking idiot. The stranger had already unlocked the door and disappeared inside, and Hercules quickly followed, stepping into a small room with two beds. It had a grimy brown floor and one side of the room, Hercules was assuming this was the stranger’s, was decorated with a variety of French and American flags, along with some Black Lives Matter posters and a giant poster of Pepe the frog, among others.  
Hercules was a little afraid of this stranger, but intrigued.  
The stranger, who had strewn himself on the bed on his side of the room, was grinning and staring at Hercules, which made him uncomfortable.  
“Hello,” Hercules said, scratching the back of his neck.  
“Hello,” the stranger replied. He had a beautiful, lilting French accent that was present even in that simple greeting.  
“I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette, you may call me Lafayette, and I perhaps will let you call me Gilbert or ‘Laf if we become best friends, which I assure you we will,” he said with a smile. “I am nonbinary. They/them pronouns, please. If you cannot respect this we cannot be room-mates.”  
Hercules immediately felt terrible about assuming their gender, and corrected himself in his head. He was still reeling from the mouthful that was his room-mate's name. It made him feel better about his own ridiculous name.  
Lafayette’s smile had dropped off their face, and Hercules realized he was staring.  
“Oh! Uh. That’s fine. It’s all good. I’m Hercules Mulligan,” he said, “Um. He/him pronouns, please.”  
“You are Irish?” God, their voice was beautiful.  
“Moved there in high school. You’re French?”  
“How you say… Born and raised, yes?”  
“Yes.”  
“We are going to be the best of friends, Hercules.” The ‘h’ was lost when they said his name, but Hercules didn’t mind.

“We’ll see,” he laughed, putting his bag down on his side of the room. He wasn’t planning on being in the room much, but they would be sleeping in the same space.

Perhaps they could be friends.

“It’s good to meet you, Hercules Mulligan.”  
“Likewise, Lafayette.”


	2. I'm Straight, Lafayette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules' new roommate is quite something. He's not sure if he's okay with it yet.

CHAPTER 2

Hercules was being very silent, which was unusual. Usually he was the loudest one of his friends, but something about Lafayette made him want to shut up and… He didn’t know. His stomach was in knots. They were chatting up a storm on their side of the room, laughing and pointing at some poster on their wall, no doubt telling some hilarious story, but Hercules couldn’t tear his eyes away from their face, which was bright and somehow very attractive. He felt out of place, sitting on this dirty bed in the presence of someone so…   
“Hercules?” they asked, stopping their wild gesturing at the wall to frown at him. “Is everything all right?”  
“Hm? Oh, yeah,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm under their gaze. “I’m just thinking about this whole thing. You know, college.”  
“I am afraid I do not know,” said Lafayette with a curious grin. “Do you mean being here with me in the dorm, or your classes? I can assure you one of those are much more enjoyable.” They winked.  
“If you’re trying to flirt with me,” Hercules reprimanded, even though his heart was hammering, “it won’t work. I’m straight. Actually, my… uh, my girlfriend just broke up with me.” He looked away from Lafayette, who was now looking absolutely puppy-like with their long lashes and concerned, pouty face. Why had he just told his new roommate that? Stupid, stupid. He needed to forget about her.  
“I am sorry about your girlfriend. But I am like this with all of my friends, Hercules. I am not looking to be in a relationship right now, especially with a straight man. Even though I must admit your Irish accent is very nice.”   
Hercules was perturbed. “Wait, I have an Irish accent?” Lafayette raised their eyebrows, then began to laugh. They laughed and laughed, sliding off their bed. Clearly, they could not contain their mirth. How dramatic.  
“Yes! You did not notice?” they asked incredulously.  
“No! I just thought everyone I spoke to sounded very american. No wonder you knew I was Irish.”  
Lafayette scoffed. “You are very stupid, Hercules. But in a good way. A loveable dunce way.” Hercules frowned at that and slouched in his bed.  
“Can you put on some music?” he asked as a diversion from the way this conversation was heading (which was probably full of insults directed towards Hercules’ brain). Lafayette smiled slyly and leapt off their bed to go on their computer, which was a pristine laptop on the dresser separating their cots.   
Of course, the song they played first was a Kendrick Lamar song. Classic. As the next few songs played, all in compliance with Hercules’ own musical tastes, he thanked whoever was out there pulling the strings that he hadn’t gotten a roommate who liked bad music.   
A guilty pleasure of Hercules’ was Taylor Swift music, though. Hopefully Lafayette would never look through his iTunes account on his own laptop.  
Lafayette was bopping their head along to the music, letting their tight bun of curled hair out to reveal a full afro. Hercules almost gasped. They looked… Familiar. Like somebody Hercules had known a long time ago. He shook it off as Deja Vu, he’d figure it out later. Maybe someone from Ireland?  
“Come on, Hercules! Dance with me!” Lafayette said with a smile.  
“You do realize I don’t even know you, right?” asked Hercules, though the offer is very tempting. Lafayette scoffed again. It seemed like all they did was scoff. And smile brilliantly.   
“What better way to get to know somebody than dance with them to rap music?” Lafayette inquired. They seemed to be serious, which made them kind of adorable.  
“Fine,” Hercules conceded, letting Lafayette pull him to his feet. Soon, they were both dancing, and Lafayette was looking at Hercules like they were impressed.  
“You are a very good dancer,” they said loudly over the music. Hercules shrugged and continued to move, letting himself go. In Ireland, he never got to dance. He loved dancing.  
Soon they were both sweating and Hercules had to stop, breathing hard. He wiped some sweat off of his forehead and sat down on his bed. Lafayette followed soon afterward.  
“Is this what you do with every person you room with?” he asked once he had caught his breath.  
“Only the good-looking ones” was the snarky reply. “So,” Lafayette continued, “Who are you?” Hercules cocked his head at Lafayette, confused.  
“I thought we already discussed that. I’m an exchange from Ireland.” He laid back on his pillow, which he had propped against the wall on his bed, and crossed his legs.  
“No, silly. What’s your major, favorite Disney movie, politics, et cetera, et cetera,” they said, like this was obvious.  
“Oh.”  
Lafayette looked at Hercules expectantly.   
“I’m majoring in design. Fashion and all that. I’m going to open up my own line of clothing one day.”  
“Impressive. You must let me be a model.”   
Hercules raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Are you sure? I can’t pay-”  
Lafayette cut him off. “We are roommates. You will pay in good company.”  
Hercules grinned. “We’ll see about that. What if you hate me?” He wiggled his already raised eyebrows and Lafayette rolled their eyes.  
“You have not answered my other questions. Disney. Politics.”  
He sighed. “You’re not going to guess what my favorite Disney movie is? Usually people do. I’ve gotten used to it; go ahead.”  
They stared at him for a second with blank eyes. “How should I assume what Disney movie you like best?” they finally ask, confused.  
“Wait. Really? Dude,” Hercules said, with emphasis on the ‘Dude’. He quickly realized his mistake. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I use ‘dude’ as a gender neutral term. I said it to my foster sisters all the time back in Ireland.”  
Lafayette waved it off. “That is fine, I do not mind. But please explain this Disney mystery; I am confused.”   
“Well, usually people assume… because of my name, you know… that my favorite movie is ‘Hercules’,” he said.  
Lafayette’s face lit up like the sun. “That is… the best thing I’ve ever heard! Hercules! We must watch that movie tonight!”  
Hercules groaned. “And here I was thinking you were different.” He didn’t notice that they had slipped into easy conversation, their persistent positivity loosening his nerves up instantly. “Clearly, I was mistaken. You are just like all the rest,” he lamented dramatically, “Stereotyping me into a movie that I hate, just because of my name.” He finished the scene by draping the back of his hand on his forehead like a damsel in distress.  
Lafayette’s features expanded into a giant smile, and they began giggling like a child. Hercules couldn’t help laughing as well at the look on their face, breaking his facade of being sad over the movie.  
“In all seriousness, though,” Hercules said after they had mostly stopped laughing, “I fucking despise that movie. Do you have any idea how many times I was forced to watch it?”  
“Well, I love it. And Hercules is very handsome in that movie, don’t you agree?” they asked.  
“I didn’t notice, I was too busy being fucking teased by my foster siblings!” he retorted, a touch too harshly.  
Lafayette’s smile faltered.  
“I didn’t mean to be so serious,” Hercules amended, looking at them worriedly. He had to remember that not everybody had been in the same situation as he, and to some, his situation with the foster home wasn’t a thing to joke about.  
“No, it is fine. Did they tease you a lot? Were you bullied?” Lafayette inquired softly, their hair falling across their face as they leaned forward.  
“I’m fine,” Hercules said firmly, though it hadn’t always been fine. “And anyway, that’s kind of a personal question to ask somebody you’ve known for, what, an hour?”  
“An hour and five minutes,” they corrected, avoiding what he had asked. “At first I did not want to wake you. You looked so peaceful on the floor like that.”  
“You watched me? What the-- Okay, you know what? I don’t even care. I’m going to go to dinner now, maybe get a sandwich at Subway,” Hercules said angrily. He didn’t want to be angry at his new roommate, but the foster home wasn’t something he liked being asked about.   
Actually, that was unfair. He joked about it all the time, to practically anyone. Maybe he did want to be asked about it.  
Maybe Hercules wanted to be cared about for once.  
“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, his voice rough-sounding. “That was uncalled for. I’m gonna go get a beer after the sandwich. Want to come with?”   
Lafayette, who was looking thoroughly confused at this point, nodded their head. “You have a fake ID? We are only 18, mon ami.”  
“Of course, do you think I’m a hermit? And I don’t speak baguette language, Lafayette, knock it off. If we’re gonna be best friends, that’s one of the ground rules. No languages I can’t understand.” Hopefully this came off as teasing, not aggressive.  
“Non. I shall speak as I please, mon ami,” Lafayette drawled, their french accent coming off even stronger. It was probably to piss him off.   
The accent was doing nothing of the sort.  
“The real question is: Do you have a fake ID?”  
“You insult me, Hercules! Of course I do. I am French. Alcohol is as essential to us as water.”  
“Funny you should say that, because that’s exactly what the Irish say too.”

That night was full of drunkenness and dirty dancing, and Hercules almost forgot that he was far, far away from the only home he’d ever truly known, despite the bad memories surrounding that place like a shroud.

Key word being almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYO SECOND CHAPTER!!  
> love is love is love is love is love is love


	3. Shaken, Not Stirred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hercules gets lost. Then found by a Schuyler. It's a good day for all involved.

Hercules had never liked college campuses. From his experience in Ireland, Hercules thought colleges were full of rich, snobby white kids who bought into the school with their parents’ influence. But the campus he was on, King’s college, was oddly different. There were kids of all racial backgrounds, sexualities, genders (well, Hercules wasn’t sure about that one, it’s not like people were walking around with giant flags broadcasting their orientations), and financial situations.  
Hercules had missed America, really. He’d felt out of place in Ireland, although he’d been very popular with the ladies (and some boys). He’d always been expected to know what to say. He hadn’t ever been able to be himself in Ireland.  
On this particular day, Hercules was attending his first class, which happened to be economics. His advisor back in Ireland had constantly reminded him that, in order to be a fashion designer, he had to be aware of money, and how industries and advertisements worked. Hercules didn’t think much of money, although it was certainly nice to have.  
Unfortunately, he was lost. And he hadn’t thought to get his room-mate’s number, so he was completely alone on an unfamiliar campus. Hercules had forgotten to bring a map as well. Basically everything he could have done to fuck up? He’d fucked it up.  
He sat down on a bench. It was no use wandering around, he’d already been doing that for around fifteen minutes. He pulled out his laptop and tried to hook up to the campus wifi to get a map.  
“Uh… Excuse me?” A soft, feminine voice asked him. Hercules looked up. Standing in front of him was a beautiful woman with dark hair, pale skin, and a round face.  
“Can I help you, gorgeous?” he replied, slipping into his flirting voice (he’d perfected this deep, velvet tone long ago). He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked, letting her know he wasn’t very serious.  
She rolled her eyes. “Well, I was passing by, and I noticed you looked very confused. Are you lost?” Hercules nodded, and opened his mouth. “Wait,” she interrupted before he could get a word in, “And I have a girlfriend, so you’d best watch your mouth, sir,” she said bitingly.  
“Oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right. That was uncool of me. I’m Hercules,” he added, standing up to shake her hand. It was small and delicate in his large one.  
“I’m Eliza Schuyler. Do you need to be somewhere?” Eliza asked, smiling again. Hercules sighed, nodding. He grabbed his computer, glancing at the screen one last time to check for the map. The campus wifi was truly terrible, it seemed. He put it in his bag and turned to face Eliza.  
“I need to get to an economy class, taught by… um…” he trailed off, looking sheepishly at the ground.  
“Could it be Mr. Adams, by any chance?” she asked sweetly. Hercules quirked his eyebrows and grinned.  
“Why, yes! How did you know?” he said, delightedly remembering his professor’s name. Eliza motioned that he should start walking with her right hand.  
“I have him, too. Angelica says he’s a demon. Doesn’t know how to teach at all,” she confided as they walked.  
“Angelica?” Hercules asked, confused.  
“Oh! My sister. She’s a year above me. And you, I guess. Your first year, right?”  
“Yup.”  
They walked the rest of the way in silence, and Hercules occasionally glanced over at her to make sure this wasn’t some kind of weird prank people did to lost students. But no, Eliza seemed legitimately nice. Hercules prided himself on being able to read people after one conversation. He was worried since he hadn’t been able to quite decide on Lafayette.

* * *

  
When they finally entered the classroom, it was pin-drop silent. Shit, Hercules thought, looking around the room at his apparent classmates, all staring at him (and Eliza, but Hercules wasn’t thinking about that, further showing his narcissism). The desk in the front of the room was empty, and the Smartboard projector was off.  
“Hey!” he said loudly, forcing a grin on his face. “I know I’m devastatingly handsome, but you don’t have to stop talking!” Hercules identified two empty chairs in the back and made his way to them, Eliza following. They sat down.  
The kid next to Hercules was staring at him with wide, dark eyes, his greasy hair tied back in a messy bun. He clearly hadn’t slept in about a week, but the black stubble around his mouth was kind of endearing.  
“Hi, Alex!” Eliza said brightly, smiling a brilliant smile at the guy.  
“Eliza, shut up,” Alex hissed, his voice low and scratchy. She cocked her head and frowned at him, and Hercules automatically bristled at his unfriendly tone, despite Eliza seemingly knowing him.  
“Why?” she asked.  
“Adams has been staring at you two since you got here,” he whispered hurriedly, motioning toward the front left of the classroom.  
Hercules looked where Alex was pointing. A fat man wearing round glasses, around thirty years old, was sitting in the front row, glaring at him.  
_Fuck. Why didn’t I notice him before? Why didn’t he say something?_  
“Mister Hercules and Ms. Schuyler, I presume,” said Professor Adams in a loud, booming voice, emphasizing the ‘s’ sounds.  
“Yes, sir,” they said at the same time.  
“I do not appreciate tardiness in my class, and certainly not disruption with unnecessary comments,” this he directed at Hercules, “so if this happens again, I will not hesitate in lowering your grade. Consider this a warning.”  
“Sorry, sir,” Eliza mumbled, looking crestfallen. Hercules and Alex looked at each other, opening their mouths in protest.  
Hercules beat Alex to the punch. “Professor, Eliza was helping me find my way here. It’s my fault.”  
“Yes, yes, whatever,” Adams said, hefting himself up and waddling to his desk. “I don’t care. Now, who read the materials I assigned you over the summer?”  
Nobody raised their hand except for Alex. Hercules raised his eyebrows, impressed. Someone had actually read it. It would be good to have this guy as his friend, he thought.  
“Mister… Whoever, can you summarize the materials for the rest of the class?” Adams asked boredly.  
As Alex exploded into a rant about America’s failing economy, which Hercules hadn’t thought about since middle school, Eliza tapped his shoulder and whispered something about how Alex had been staying with her family because he was on a scholarship from the Caribbean, and he was a major overachiever.  
Hercules chuckled, looking at the animated man who was standing up in his excitement, gesturing wildly as he talked about banks. Yeah, I can see that, he thought to himself.

* * *

Long after Alex had stopped speaking and Adams had resumed his droning lecture, class ended and it was lunch. Hercules started to say goodbye to Eliza, but she shook her head, beaming.  
“You,” she said, poking his chest with her finger, “are going to eat with us.” Alex popped up behind her and waved excitedly. Hercules grinned back a little uncertainly.  
“Um, I don’t know you?” he tried. It was a terrible argument.  
“Yes you do! We spent two minutes walking together, then an hour and a half sitting next to each other! We’re practically best friends!” Eliza said enthusiastically, linking arms with Hercules and tugging him towards the door. Goodness, this woman was determined to be his friend. Hercules didn’t know how many people on this campus he’d find that were like that. She was definitely a keeper.  
“Fine,” Hercules conceded, letting Eliza lead him once more.  
“By the way,” said Alex, speedwalking to keep up with them as they made their way to the cafeteria, “I’m Alexander Hamilton. You are…?”  
“I’m Mulligan. Hercules Mulligan,” said Hercules, shaking Alex’s outstretched hand as they kept moving.  
“Shaken, not stirred,” they said at the same time. Alex’s face broke into a huge smile and he held his fist up. Hercules bumped it, smirking.  
“You guys are nerds,” Eliza laughed, punching Hercules’ shoulder lightly.

_Okay_ , Hercules thought. _These people can be my friends._


End file.
